


from instincts to reasoning

by nfwmb (earthshaker)



Series: boy, we're gold [4]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Sitting, Kink Negotiation, Lingerie, Pegging, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 08:18:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17825189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthshaker/pseuds/nfwmb
Summary: “Love, the best present you could’ve given me was marrying me. At the rate you’re going though, you’re gonna run out of things to give me,” Seokmin jokes.“Never.” It’s the way Minghao says it, calm, assured, that makes Seokmin’s heart skip a beat.





	from instincts to reasoning

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday seokminnie~ i pushed myself to try and get this up by midnight KST and seeing as i wrote minghao bday sex fic i should do the same and better for seokmin. i have no explanation for this fic honestly... i just saw a vision and ran with it. xingan (心肝) is a mandarin term of endearment that _very_ loosely translates to my heart and soul in english. it's a bit hard to get the full intensity of it across in english, but it's such a sweet word imo. [fall in love](https://youtu.be/pS0CNeD48gA?t=5447) is an actual song minghao co-wrote with victor ma for cyzj and the lyrics of it are absolutely beautiful. if you'd like an extensive soundtrack for this fic, it was just a mix of Beyonce's 2014 album, Daniel Caesar and HER. title from want by taemin. 

laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon,

laugh at the twisted streets of the island,

laugh at this clumsy boy who loves you,

but when I open my eyes and close them,

when my steps go, when my steps return,

deny me bread, air, light, spring,

but never your laughter for I would die

**your laughter, pablo neruda.**

 

 

 

“What do you want for your birthday?” Minghao asks, setting his laptop aside as he pulls Seokmin’s feet onto his lap.

 

Seokmin groans when he starts massaging them, stretching out along the length of the sofa. She takes a moment to consider his question but there’s really nothing she can think of. Seokmin has everything she wants, wrapped neatly with a Cartier ring on his left hand.

 

“There’s nothing more I could ask for now that we’re married.”

 

Minghao stops his ministrations and meets her eyes with a soft smile, eyes twinkling. Seokmin used to think she’d get used to feelings Minghao brings in his wake back when they were dating. Even when they fought with each other, Minghao still made sure she felt loved after. The truth is they’ve only gotten worse since they got married. She’s helpless to the way Minghao’s love comes crashing down on her, the shoreline that calls for the sea.

 

“It’s the first time we’re celebrating your birthday since we got married, I just wanna make it special,” Minghao says.

 

There’s a small frown creasing his forehead, lower lip stuck out in a pout and Seokmin can’t help herself. She laughs, sitting up and scooting closer. There’s no such thing as being too close to Minghao in her books.

  
“The best present you could’ve given me and my mother, if we’re being honest, was marrying me. At the rate you’re going though, you’re gonna run out of things to give me,” Seokmin jokes.  
  
“Never.” It’s the way Minghao says it, calm, assured, that makes Seokmin’s heart skip a beat.

 

Minghao’s always been a giver. Shows Seokmin how much he loves her rather than telling her. But when he says it, it’s a bit like a promise. Sacred, to be upheld. Seokmin has no qualms Minghao will hold himself to this and chooses to reciprocate in a way he understands: action.

  
  
“Okay,” she hums. “How about you let _me_ fuck you,” Seokmin says, shifting so she’s straddling him only to steal a kiss.

 

Seokmin can’t help but laugh at Minghao’s expression when she pulls back; he looks starstruck. Like he’s checked out to a place Seokmin can’t follow. Lips parted and eyes trained on hers and his hands tightening on her waist.

 

“It’s a joke, xingan. I’d be happy with anything you get me, even if it’s nothing.”

“Lemme think about it,” Minghao says instead, leaning up to kiss her neck.

 

Seokmin gasps, hands fisting in Minghao’s hair. She can feel him smirking against her skin, laughing breathlessly in turn when she rolls her hips against his and he sighs against her neck. Minghao trails kisses up her neck until he reaches her mouth, kissing her deeply and licking into her mouth. She yelps when he stands up and lifts her with him, unsteady for a moment until he regains his footing.

 

“I’ll kill you if you drop me,” she threatens.

 

“You can use my life insurance to build a dog shelter.”

 

Minghao huffs but his smile takes over his whole face and Seokmin’s heart is lodged in her throat at this point with how much she loves him. Minghao doesn’t do a lot of thinking that night, but he does kiss every inch of Seokmin’s skin. And when the sheets are stripped and replaced, Seokmin’s chest to Minghao’s back, she can’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be.

 

☼

 

Seokmin knew what it meant when she’d decided to give Minghao control of the visual direction for her album. She’d gone over a long list of people with her recording label but at the end of the day, the album celebrated her love, celebrated _their_ love _._ If there was anyone in the world who knew what she was envisioning when she wrote the songs on it, it would be Minghao. Between that and the fact that he’d co-written some of the lyrics, Seokmin refused to have anyone else on visual direction.

 

At their wedding, Minghao had said that it was fate that had lead Seokmin to his first exhibition. It’s just the kind of man Minghao is, full of romantic ideals and living up to every one of them. And it was, no, _is_ fate — everything lining up perfectly so Seokmin would walk into a small gallery in LA and come face to face with a massive canvas of a couple kissing, covered by splashes of silver paint meant to resemble lightning strikes.

 

One conversation with Minghao later, Seokmin was walking away with significantly fewer digits in her bank account (how else was Minghao affording YSL), art for her bedroom and Minghao’s phone number, given to her under the pretense of networking purposes. Seokmin liked Minghao’s art and liked Minghao too, but was too hesitant to make the first move. Back then, it felt like Minghao belonged to a world Seokmin would never get a glimpse of. Mingyu, Minghao’s best friend, joked at the wedding about how Seokmin acted like Minghao’s sugar mommy in the months before Minghao asked her out. It was only her love for Mingyu’s boyfriend, Junhui, and the fact that Mingyu had put their entire wedding together that kept Seokmin from flinging something at him.

 

Handing Minghao control was nepotism at its finest, really, but Minghao kept delivering.

 

Despite the knowledge, the reality of it slams into her like a ton of bricks when she walks onto the music video set for Fall In Love and sees what Minghao’s done to the space. She’d fought tooth and nail for it to be the first single from the album with a music video and the payoff was worth it. One of the rooms is almost a mirror set up of their bedroom, most of the space dominated by a blown up version of the same artwork that’s still in their room three years later and a huge four-poster bed. Seokmin wishes their penthouse actually had space for a bed that big, draped in silk sheets and fluffy pillows.

 

Minghao himself is running around the set, going through lists with the directors and cameramen, meticulous with the setup. More than any other song on the album, Fall In Love is Minghao’s. Seokmin still remembers when they wrote it together as a joke, but then brought it up with Vernon, her producer, and two weeks later, they were looking at a track that featured Minghao’s vocals. Looking at Minghao smiling at her through the glass of the recording booth, crooning out promises of love and tenderness, had Seokmin on the verge of tears.

 

It takes four days of filming and two weeks of editing, all supervised by Minghao, before she finally sees the full cut of the music video. It drives her to tears, Minghao fluttering nervously around her, wiping them away even as he keeps asking her if she’s happy with it.

 

Seokmin’s over the moon with it — the video edited with a soft lens blur that lends it a dreamy feeling. There are strong colors in it too; Minghao and Seokmin standing out in white against the red lighting of the bedroom and the dark blues of their clothes at the beach. There’s a slow motion shot of the two of them kissing in the ocean, a wave knocking them down and an aerial shot of them on the bed, Seokmin singing at the camera draped across Minghao’s legs, his hand in her hair. It’s strange to put her love on public display but watching it from the perspective of an outsider has her butterflies alight in her ribcage.

 

The album was already doing well before the release of the music video, Seokmin swamped with more interviews and calls to perform than ever, including an invitation to NPR’s Tiny Desk but when it’s finally released, shit hits the fan. Her fanbase almost doubles overnight and Minghao remains her anchor through it all.

 

Remains her anchor when the Recording Academy announces that Seokmin’s up for best R&B performance, best R&B album and best new artist. She cries and Minghao laughs but he cries too, kisses her tears away as fast as they stream down her face.

 

☼

 

Seokmin’s in the midst of her skincare routine when Minghao comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He doesn’t say anything until she’s done, content with resting his chin on her shoulder and occasionally brushing her hair back when it gets in the way. They’re both smiling at each other in the mirror, and this, this is good. Better than anything Seokmin could’ve imagined for herself back when she was fifteen and writing love songs for the first time.

 

“I’ve made up my mind,” Minghao announces when Seokmin sets her lotion down.

 

“On?”

 

“On you fucking me,” Minghao says, smile turning teasing when Seokmin flushes.

 

Right. Seokmin’s completely forgotten that was on the table, a testament to how distracting Minghao is.

 

“If you win a Grammy you can fuck me,” Minghao continues.

 

Seokmin bursts into laughter.

 

“Babe, you know I’m not gonna win.”

 

“You will.” Minghao’s earnest, a shine to his eyes Seokmin recognizes as determination. “I believe you’re going to win at _least_ one, if not all.”

 

“In fact,” Minghao goes on. “I believe you’re going to win so much I think we should order the harness and dildo tonight.”

 

Seokmin snorts, crawling into bed and grabbing her laptop from the nightstand. “You get the wine and I’ll start looking then.”

 

Minghao grins, ducking down to kiss her cheek. She’s already on one of the sex toy shops when Minghao comes back with a glass of moscato for her and a glass of syrah for himself, adjusting the laptop so it’s between them instead.

 

“I have no idea what we should be getting,” Seokmin whines, leaning against Minghao.

 

“Didn’t you do this back in college?”

 

“I was getting fucked by my girlfriends, not doing the fucking,” Seokmin huffs out.

 

“Pillow princess,” Minghao teases.

 

Seokmin swats his thigh lightly. “Okay Mister Whatever-You-Want-Baby.”

 

“I don’t see you complaining,” Minghao raises an eyebrow, carding a hand through her hair.

 

Seokmin hums instead of saying something in response, clicking through the website.

 

“There,” Minghao points out. “Pegging kit.”

 

She takes a hasty gulp of her wine, wincing when it burns down her throat.

 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she mutters as she clicks through the review.

 

“You wanted to fuck me,” Minghao’s completely nonplussed next to her and Seokmin knows it’s not the first time he’s getting fucked but it’s still nerve-wracking.

 

“It’s the first time any man I’ve dated has agreed to it though.”

 

Minghao nudges her side with an elbow. “Not just any man. Am your husband. It says Xu-Lee on my driver’s license now.”

 

Sometimes, just sometimes, Seokmin thinks about their hyphenated names. About the way their mail comes addressed Mr and Mrs Xu-Lee. The monogrammed hand towels that she’d received as a wedding present. The way her Wikipedia page says Seokmin Xu-Lee. The combined indignation of their mothers whenever their hyphenated last names come up. It’s not customary, but they’ve never been one for customs. They’d cut their first date short so they could go to Minghao’s studio and have him paint her, which Seokmin later learned was another way of Minghao saying he was going to paint _on_ her, then eat her out. So this, shopping for a strap-on? It adheres to all their traditions of breaking customs.

 

Seokmin rolls her eyes even though there’s a smile threatening to break free, reading the product description for the item Minghao pointed out. It looks simple enough — instead of a proper harness, it’s a pair of sturdy looking briefs with an O-ring flap, the dildo attached to it a bright pink and not too big.

 

“This one has a vibrator,” Seokmin hums, taking another sip of her wine.

 

“We can just leave it out the first time.”

 

The implication that Minghao intends for it to be more than just a one-time thing has a different kind of heat pooling low in her belly, although it might just be the wine getting to her head. But the reviews on the toy look promising, and Minghao looks very interested in it which helps with Seokmin’s decision to add it to the cart. Minghao grins and presses a kiss to her hair, excusing himself to the shower before she checks out.

 

Seokmin would like to blame the alcohol clouding her better senses when she clicks on bondage gear, but it’s really her own curiosity and desire. Minghao likes accessorizing with chokers sometimes, thin bands wrapped around the circumference of his neck and Seokmin wants to see him in something a little thicker than a choker. It doesn’t take long for her to find a soft leather collar with a leash attached, Seokmin adding it and checking out before she loses her nerve.

 

It’s not like she’s going to peg her husband and collar him in the same night, although it would be fun if she could.

 

When the package arrives three days later, she takes a customary look at it before shoving it into their closet. Their purchases made it intact and Seokmin would be lying if she said she wasn't excited to try them out on Minghao. 

 

☼

 

Time is a finicky thing. Between being shooed away for interviews and performances and fittings, the Grammys sneak up on them. Seokmin wakes up too early on the morning of it despite being the opposite of a morning person, Minghao joining her in solidarity. They go through four episodes of Bake Off before Seokmin’s styling team comes knocking at the door, marching through the place like they own it when she lets them in.

 

One of the benefits of living in Los Angeles is that they have _some_ leeway with getting ready for the red carpet and the show. All Seokmin has to worry about is staying still in her chair while she’s pulled in different directions by the stylists and _maybe_ LA traffic. Minghao keeps himself out of her way for most of it, disappearing only to get ready himself.

 

Seokmin does a double take when Minghao steps out of their closet; he’s skipped wearing a shirt under his vest. See, usually, Seokmin wouldn’t complain; her husband is hot, she always wants to jump his bones, _loves_ it when he shows off his body, there’s no denying that. The issue is that the deep V-neck cut of the vest reveals a hickey on his chest, off center from his sternum, right above where his heart is, partially obscured by the vest but still very much prominent. There’s a thin silver body chain connected to the silver choker around his neck and Seokmin would very much _love_ to skip the Grammys just so she can spend an obscene amount of time sucking more hickeys into Minghao’s skin. Her styling team takes one look at it and half of them raise their eyebrows, Seokmin blushing furiously.

 

“Do ya wanna get that covered?” One of her makeup artists asks.

 

Minghao looks down at his chest and shrugs, Seokmin slumping further down her seat.

 

“Everyone’s going to be looking at her,” Minghao says, smiling even as someone else pushes him into another chair and gets to work on his hair.

 

Part of her is mortified: what are her fans going to think when she walks down the red carpet, husband in tow while he’s wearing a hickey she gave him like it’s an accessory? Her family? Her mother’s going to kill her, that’s for sure. The other, _bigger_ part of her is thrilled Minghao’s doing this, it soothes her ego that no one’s going to doubt that he’s _hers_. Besides, it’s not like Minghao’s announcing the conception of their kid on a world tour, or anything. That’s Jay-Z’s job.

 

“Let’s take a picture,” Minghao says when they’re done with styling.

 

It’s never really one picture with Minghao; Seokmin listening to his instructions as they move around the house for the best light, roping in one of the stylists for help. They always look good together but there’s an intentional sort of symmetry to the deep V necklines of both their outfits and the fact that Minghao’s wearing blue while Seokmin’s wearing green. There’s also the way their jewelry is in complementary colors: Seokmin in gold and Minghao in silver. In the end, Seokmin’s favorite picture is one of them in front of the full-length mirror of their closet. She has her head on his shoulder, turned away from the mirror to hide her laughter, Minghao’s free hand wrapped around her waist and pulling her closer.

 

She ends up posting the picture to her Instagram story on the way to the Staples Center, captioned with a ‘first Grammys’ and an emoji, immediately flooded with messages of support from friends and fans. She’s not surprised when she goes through Minghao’s Instagram story and he’s posted five different pictures of her, the last in the set being the mirror picture. Each one is captioned with messages of good luck or talking about how gorgeous she looks and it’s _cheesy_ , makes her teeth ache, but it helps ease her nerves a little.

 

The red carpet whirs by in a rush of cameras and photographers yelling at her to pose for them. At some point she ends up clutching tightly onto Minghao’s arm, making him pose for the paparazzi with her. It’s easier to breathe with Minghao next to her, more relief flooding through her when they enter the hall and make their way to the assigned seats. Seokmin’s seated a row behind BTS, flanked by Minghao and her production team.

 

It’s hard not to get her hopes up but if her production team was also invited to the show, Seokmin can only hope that she walks out of the Staples Center tonight with at least one Grammy. For her team more than for herself. They’ve put in as much work as she did, if not more, for the album.

 

Minghao, usually calm, is jittery next to her the whole time, leg bouncing up and down frantically as the show progresses. No amount of talking to Vernon seems to calm him down; he doesn’t stop jittering until Seokmin intertwines their fingers together on the armrest, Minghao smiling gratefully at her. Seokmin’s nervous too but she can keep it together with Minghao next to her, the two of them jolting in their seats when the presenter announces the nominees for best R&B performance.

 

Everything sharpens into high definition when the presenter announces her name as the winner for best R&B performance for Fall in Love before dulling into a roar of sensations and feelings. Minghao standing up and pushing her towards the stage, her production team yelling in joy, the cheers of thousands of people as she makes her way up the stairs. The coldness of the award in her hands jolts her back into reality, barely holding her tears back as she delivers her acceptance speech and gets escorted off the stage and back to her seat.

 

Minghao pulls her into her hug the moment he can, the award clutched awkwardly between their bodies as Vernon pats her back and says his congratulations.

 

“Told you you’d win at least one,” Minghao says. “Now you get to fuck me.”

 

Seokmin swats at him half-heartedly, her smile threatening to break free from her face. Her cheeks hurt so much and her stage makeup has probably settled in her laugh lines but Minghao looks at her like she’s his benediction and Seokmin regains the energy to pull through the rest of the show. Her nerves flare up again as they draw closer to the award presentation for best R&B album, Minghao squeezing her hand periodically. Behind her, Vernon reminds her how it’s a big deal that’s she’s already got one.

 

And it is a big deal. Seokmin’s first Grammy coming from a song Minghao wrote with her, about her, about _them_ is a huge deal. If Seokmin could have it her way, Minghao would have been right next to her accepting the award.

 

BTS does the nominee reading and she raises a hand to wave robotically when the camera switches to her. Their leader, Namjoon, fumbles with the envelope for a moment before their voice chorus the name of the winner, Seokmin frozen in her seat when they call out her moniker.

 

It feels a little bit like a dream. Minghao explodes in happiness next to her, eyes scrunched up from the force of his smile, pressing a handkerchief into her hands and pushing her towards the stage for the second time in the night. Seokmin feels a little overwhelmed watching artists she respects clap for her, one of the BTS members gesturing at her to join them onstage. She’s blinking back tears when Min Yoongi hands her the award, grinning wide as he murmurs his congratulations in Korean.

 

Seokmin manages to stumble her way through her acceptance speech despite her tears, reciting every name that comes off the top of her head. Vernon, her manager, the Academy, her label, her fans, until the camera closes up on Minghao during a shot of her production, clapping steadily through her speech.

 

“More than anyone else, I’d like to thank my husband,” Seokmin blubbers out, dabbing at her tears with the handkerchief he’d pressed into her hands.

 

The camera pans to Minghao in the crowd, his eyes shiny and his smile wide. He looks close to tears himself and despite the thousands of people, despite the fact that he’s being broadcasted on national television, Minghao’s looking straight at Seokmin.

 

“When I started writing this album, we’d just gotten engaged. I mean I knew that I wanted to spend my life with him by our third date but his love has made me grow as a person and artist. Infinite is a celebration of that love, the person he’s made me.”

 

A new wave of tears escape her eyes when Minghao presses a kiss to his wedding ring, half the audience cooing at the action. Seokmin wants to drop her awards and jump into his arms, hide away from the world in them.

 

“God he gave me this handkerchief because he knew I was gonna cry my mascara off,” Seokmin says, laughing wetly.

 

“I’ll treat you with tenderness too, xingan.” Seokmin ends her speech, the camera catching Minghao mouthing the words _I love you_ and the distance between them feels insurmountable.

 

“I love you,” Seokmin breathes out the moment she’s next to Minghao against. Kisses his cheek and his hand, murmuring the words over and over again.

 

“I know, Minnie.” Minghao eyes are red-rimmed too.

 

The Grammy for the third category she’s nominated for goes to Dua Lipa and while slightly let down, Seokmin’s more than happy with the two she has. It’s even more worth it when she catches Minghao staring at her fondly, thumb rubbing her wedding band ever so often.

 

☼

 

There’s no way to describe the sight of two Grammy awards on their coffee table. More than anything else, between her nerves, anticipation and the sheer amount of crying she’d done, she feels exhausted and ready to never move from her spot in bed. Seokmin takes off her makeup and sets aside her jewelry, beckoning Minghao over to help her undo her dress. It pools at her feet in a mass of silk and velvet, Seokmin sitting on the edge of their bed in her underwear once she’s out of it.

 

“You have to do me now,” Minghao says, smiling gently.

 

She laughs, spreading her legs to make room for Minghao between them, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. His vest is next, undoing his buttons one by one, pressing a kiss to the flat plane of his stomach when it joins the growing pile on the floor. Minghao’s pants drop to the floor and Seokmin’s sucking in a harsh breath through her teeth.

 

Oh. _Oh_ . It’s no wonder Minghao’s been jittery all night; he’s wearing lingerie under his clothes. This isn’t one of his 90 dollar pair of briefs, no, it’s honest to god panties. Black and lacy with blue accents, his narrow waist framed by a green garter belt, clipped to his thigh-high socks. Seokmin’s just about to lose her mind because her husband decided he was going to wear fucking lingerie under his suit to the fucking _Grammys._ Her heart feels so full she could burst with it.  
  
“Happy birthday, xingan.”  

 

Minghao’s smiling down shyly at her, one hand cradling the back of her head. Any exhaustion she previously felt has been washed away in the wake of her desire, heavy in the air. She didn’t even realize that it’s officially her birthday but Minghao did, of course Minghao did. But Minghao’s also nervous, obvious in the way his smile is a little bit tight around the corners, the way he’s fidgeting slightly.

 

“Hao, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Seokmin begins, intertwining her fingers with Minghao’s.  
  
She wants to, God does she _want_ to, run her hands over Minghao’s graceful body, suck his dick while she fingers him open, wants to hear _his_ voice crack around his pleas for more. But she also wants him to be comfortable. Wants this to be a choice he’s making for himself, not out of some misplaced devotion to give her everything she asks for.  
  
“We can have regular birthday sex, like regular people and I get accidentally knocked up and sixteen years from now our kid realizes she’s a birthday sex kid.”

  
“Please, she’s going to be a Grammy celebration kid. Also, she?” Minghao huffs out, smiling down at her.  
  
“I know you want a daughter. _Daughters_ . Pretty sure you want a football team of them, I _know_ you, Minghao,” Seokmin says, half-teasing, half-serious.  
  
“It’s not about having regular birthday sex with you. Also if you only get pregnant through birthday sex we’re only going to have a soccer team of Scorpios. And frankly, I want a Leo,” Minghao says seriously.  
  
Seokmin laughs, pressing her face against his stomach.  
  
“But I also promised you body and soul, Minnie. What’s mine is yours.”  
  
Minghao cups the side of her face, thumb brushing against her cheekbone. Seokmin pulls away to look at Minghao.

 

“You’re serious about this?”

 

“Very. I _miss_ getting fucked.”

 

Nothing about the process of getting a harness and dildo on should be sexy, but Minghao manages to. He could make a wearing a trash bag sexy if he wanted to. Minghao’s kneeling to adjust the dildo and Seokmin feels _dizzy_ with both lust and love, swimming up to her head with it. And it’s not like Minghao _doesn’t_ do this regularly: he spends a fair amount of time on his knees pressing kisses to Seokmin’s thighs but this is different. Seokmin runs her fingers through his hair, Minghao tilting his head back into her touch, baring his neck. She knows it’s probably not the right time to spring the collar on him but she _wants_ to.

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Minghao sits back on his heels, smiling up at Seokmin. “Thinking about fucking my mouth?”

 

Seokmin makes a noise in the back of her throat, tugging at Minghao until he’s in her arms again and kissing him.

 

“Love you so much.”

 

“I know,” Minghao murmurs. “I _know_ , Seokmin.”

 

“So I have something else. I have a collar and leash for you and you don’t _have_ to put it on but, uh. I just think. It would be hot,” she finishes weakly, refusing to meet Minghao’s eyes.

 

Instead of judging her, his eyes are bright with amusement, his body shaking with silent laughter.

 

“I know, I saw the box,” Minghao says, kissing her kneecap.

 

“God, this is so embarrassing,” Seokmin groans out.

 

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s hot how badly you wanna fuck me.”

 

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since I met you,” Seokmin confesses as she takes the collar out of the box.

 

“Yeah?” Minghao asks. He sounds oddly breathless, his eyes fixed on Seokmin unfastening the collar before handing it to him. “I’d let you do anything to me, Seokmin.”

 

Seokmin knows. God, does she know. Minghao doesn’t leave room for her to question his devotion, be it in their bedroom or outside of it. Seokmin walks into his line of sight and suddenly she’s all he’s focused on; she’s seen the pictures taken by friends and family in their wedding montage. Seokmin may have been looking at the camera in most of them, but Minghao’s always looking at her, drawn into her orbit like a stray comet.

 

“Put it on for me, please?” Minghao says, kneeling on the floor, holding out the collar.

 

“We need a word. If it’s too much. Or I’m doing something wrong.”

 

Minghao’s rubbing distracting patterns into her skin. “Zero.”

 

Seokmin swallows, nodding shakily. Minghao eyes flutter shut when she fastens the collar around his neck, slipping her fingers underneath it to make sure it’s not too tight. She doesn’t miss the way Minghao swallows, or how fast his pulse is against her fingertips.

 

“Is this okay, xingan?” Her own voice sounds hoarse like she’s been sucking Minghao’s dick instead of fastening a collar around his neck.

 

He tilts his head into her palm, staring straight at her. “I trust you.”

 

Seokmin nods, clipping the leash to the collar and tugging on it. Minghao shudders, climbing back into the bed and caging her in with his arms. The leash swings freely between them, Seokmin tugging on it to get Minghao to kiss her, fisting a hand in his hair. Minghao’s usually meticulous when he kisses her but this, the way he drags his tongue against the roof of her mouth, the way he’s hot and hard against her thigh, all of it feels charged with a different kind of intensity.

 

Minghao’s clearly affected by something; Seokmin’s not sure if it’s the collar around his neck or wearing lingerie or the anticipation of getting fucked but there’s a shift in him she can’t quite put a finger on. He’s noisier than usual even as she kisses his neck, sucking a hickey into the skin above the collar. There’s a certain kind of desperation to his movements that has Seokmin’s breathless, the way he’s insistently rolling his hips against her thigh, the way he’s already panting breathlessly from kissing alone.

 

Seokmin pulls away with a concerned frown, pushing his bangs away from his face. “Are you alright?”

 

“Just want this,” Minghao says, swallowing. “Want you to fuck me.”

 

“I will babe, gonna make it good for you. You look so pretty for me too.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Seokmin nods, maneuvering them so Minghao’s on his hands and knees. There’s something to be said about the visual of Minghao like this, the thin straps of the garter belt running down his thigh to the stockings, how good his ass looks framed in panties. She just doesn’t have the words for it, desire pooling in her as she tugs his panties down the slope of his ass and mouthing at what skin she _can_ reach.

 

“Hand me the lube?” Seokmin’s voice sounds scratchy.

 

Minghao’s legs spread further apart subconsciously when Seokmin teases her lube slicked fingers against Minghao’s rim.

 

“Are you a slut, Minghao?” Seokmin teases, delighted at the revelation.

 

“I’ll fuck you,” he threatens half-heartedly.

 

“That’s not a threat and you know it.”

 

Minghao shudders when Seokmin drags the nails of her left hand down his thigh, muffling his noises against the pillows when she finally slips a finger into him. She’s patient as she fingers him, the amount of lube she’s using squelching obscenely as she goes from one to two fingers, scissoring her fingers.

 

There’s a different kind of pleasure in having Minghao tight and hot around her, his usual composure giving way. She doesn’t miss the way he tightens around her fingers when she brushes up against his prostate, Seokmin angling her fingers so she can rub the tips of her fingers against the stop.

 

“Minnie,” Minghao pants out. “Minnie, you can fuck me now.”

 

Distantly, Seokmin knows this isn’t how birthday sex _should_ go. If anything, she’s supposed to be the one pampered by Minghao but she’s not complaining in the least. It’s doubly rewarding to see Minghao peering over his shoulder at Seokmin as she drags the slick head of the dildo against his skin, biting down on his lip.

 

“God, _please_ fuck me already,” Minghao says, rocking against the dildo.

 

“Not God,” Seokmin jokes.

 

“Seokmin,” he begins, choking on his laughter when Seokmin finally pushes in, painfully slow.

 

It’s a different kind of rewarding to watch the way Minghao takes every inch of the toy as she sinks in, his voice coming out ruined when she’s flush against his ass. She’s barely begun to fuck him and already she can feel how wet she is between her legs, the fabric of the harness proving to be an exquisite kind of tease. It just enough friction to rile her up, but not enough to get her off.

 

Seokmin stays still for a few moments, waiting for Minghao to adjust to the dildo, playfully tugging on the leash every time his head drops between his shoulders, arching his back whenever it happens.

 

“You can move,” he finally groans out, rocking his hips back slowly.

 

“I’m gonna put a baby in it,” Seokmin jokes, grinding her hips against Minghao.

 

Minghao makes a sound — an aborted laugh, huffing into the pillow.

 

“Minnie, fuck,” he groans out.

 

“Good?”

 

He lifts his head to nod before dropping it back down again, Seokmin picking up an easy rhythm of fucking him deep and slow, Minghao muffling his noises against the pillow. She’s not afraid to use her grip on his waist to pull him back onto the dildo, Minghao dropping to his elbows when she repeats the movements. Seokmin gathers the leash in her hand and pulls it taut, not missing the way Minghao _whines._ The sounds goes straight to her pussy, Seokmin slamming into Minghao harder. Curious, Seokmin grabs hold of the leash, pulling on it until Minghao’s sitting up, groaning breathlessly.

 

“Do you like getting choked?” she asks incredulously, mouthing at his shoulder.

 

Minghao mumbles out a noise of assent, his head rolling back onto Seokmin’s shoulder as she picks up the pace, sawing her hips into him. Minghao doesn’t have any leverage in this position, reaching down to wrap a loose fist around his cock, moaning when Seokmin pulls it away.

 

“My birthday,” Seokmin whispers, licking a bead of sweat off his neck, biting down on his shoulder. “Don’t get to come until I want you to.”

 

“Anything you want, xingan,” he pants out breathlessly, hands resolutely digging into his thighs instead of touching himself. She pulls on the leash a little tighter when he listens, reveling in how his voice cracks around a moan.

 

He’s quick to verbalize his protest when Seokmin pushes him down again and pulls out.

 

“Turn around,” she demands, guiding Minghao’s body until she’s between his legs again, his legs thrown over thighs.

 

Like this, Minghao can’t hide the way he’s flushed from his ears down to his chest or the way his lips are bitten red. His lips part around a silent moan when Seokmin slides back in, back arching off the mattress and he looks so beautiful, Seokmin telling him so when she starts fucking back into him again.

 

“Love you,” Minghao sighs out when she starts fucking into him harder, faster.

 

At this point, Seokmin’s so aroused she wants to reach into the harness and rub her clit until she comes but Minghao looks close, eyes fluttering closed, one hand absentmindedly playing with the collar. Seokmin’s not sure what drives her to bend forward and bend Minghao in half, Minghao moaning her name when she hooks her fingers around the back of the collar and tugs.

 

“You’ve been so good for me, so good to me, Hao,” Seokmin says, fucking steadily into Minghao.

 

Under her, Minghao’s eyes are trained on hers intently even as he flushes a deeper color.

 

“You can touch yourself.”

 

It’s painfully easy to make Minghao come like this, maintaining the same rhythm and tugging on the collar as he jerks himself off. Minghao comes with a deep groan, spilling over his hands, the wetness smearing against her own tummy. She fucks him until he pushes at her shoulder half-heartedly, Seokmin pulling out and admiring just how much of a mess she’s managed to turn her husband into. It’s usually the other way around.

 

Minghao’s body is covered in the sheen of sweat, marked up with blooming hickeys and his own come, Seokmin swiping her tongue through the mess on his stomach even as he makes a vague noise of protest. She moves up to kiss him, pushing his come into his mouth, moaning when his hands start kneading at her breasts. Seokmin’s so wet she wouldn’t be surprised if she made a mess of the harness, rolling her hips to get some form of friction. Minghao sits up with a groan, sucking a hickey into her left breast, mirror to the one she left on his chest.

 

“Get this off,” Minghao mumbles against her skin, fingers tugging insistently at the briefs.

 

Between the two of them, Seokmin manages to kick it off her legs, glaring at Minghao when she sees he’s laying flat on the bed again.

 

“It’s _my_ birthday,” she huffs out.

 

“I know,” Minghao says, grabbing her left hand and rubbing his thumb over her wedding band. Seokmin’s heart fissures open; it’s impossible to be annoyed with him. “Sit on my face?”

 

Seokmin scrambles up to straddle his face after stealing a kiss from Minghao, one hand fisted in his hair and the other gripping their headboard for balance. It’s not like facesitting is saved for special occasions or anything like that. If Seokmin let him, Minghao would probably spend his life with his face between her thighs. But if Seokmin let him, the world would also be missing out on Minghao’s pretty face.

 

She gasps at the first swipe of his tongue against her clit, rolling her hips with the sensation. Minghao’s hands settle at her waist, guiding her even as he dips her tongue into her opening, fucking her gently with it, uncaring of the way Seokmin’s moaning. There’s an eagerness to the way his tongue works, long and slows licks against her clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking gently. Minghao’s fingers go tight on her skin to hold her in place, Seokmin whimpering when he brings a hand up to join his mouth.

 

He goes from one to two fingers, his tongue still an insistent pressure at her clit. It doesn’t long before both her hands are fisted in his hair, head falling back as her orgasm hits her, Minghao coaxing her through it with his mouth and hands until she’s shuddering. He’s grinning when she climbs off his face, Seokmin sighing even as she goes in for a kiss, uncaring of how he tastes distinctly like her.

 

“Happy birthday,” he mumbles against her mouth.

 

“I’m claiming dibs on the shower and you can change the sheets,” she says in response, pecking his mouth as she undoes the collar around his neck, Minghao tilting his head back to give her space.

 

“Anything you want, xingan.”

 

It ends up going like this: Seokmin kisses the tender smile off his face, they change the sheets together and get into the shower. At this point, Seokmin knows shared showers never end well but she doesn’t complain when Minghao backs her up against the wall and fingers her through a second orgasm. He’s pleased with himself when they finally crawl into bed and flip the lights off, immediately plastering himself to her back and she is too.

 

Exhausted, but content down to her bones, sleep dragging them both under easily.

 

☼

 

Seokmin’s thighs are sore when she wakes up. The bed is cold which means Minghao’s in the shower or preparing breakfast; she seriously hopes it’s the latter. Instead of getting out, she buries further into the comforter, scrolling through the messages on her. There’s a mix of congratulations and birthday wishes; Junhui alone has spammed a group chat she’s in with Minghao and Mingyu with about a hundred sticks and her mother’s sent her every article on the internet about her appearance last night. One of the articles is about Minghao and her, Seokmin choking at the number of paparazzi pictures of them that decorate the article.

 

“Apparently we’ve beaten out The Carters for #relationshipgoals,” she yells in the direction of the bathroom.

 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Minghao says, coming out of the bathroom with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

 

He’s still shirtless and Seokmin’s eyes linger at his throat where it’s still red, at the bite mark she’d left where his neck meets his shoulder.

 

“Nope,” she clears her throat, turning her phone to Minghao, smiling when he starts scrolling through it.

 

“Music video filmed through the eyes of a loving husband… dressed in complementary colors… a speech that proved love still exists.”

 

Seokmin’s quiet as Minghao reads through the article, eyes tracking over all the little marks she’d left on him. She wishes she had Minghao’s eye for photography; there would be enough pictures for an exhibition of the mix of red and blue and purple on his skin. She’s probably equally marked up, all things considered, but her marks on Minghao’s body makes her feel the same way as looking at their hyphenated names or looking at Minghao’s wedding and engagement band does. That this here, is hers, in the most absolute of ways.

 

“You look pretty,” Seokmin blurts out.

 

Minghao ducks his head, ears turning red.

 

“Thank you,” he mumbles out, kneeling on the floor to meet her at eye level.

 

“I’m not kissing you until you brush your teeth,” Minghao says, forehead pressed against hers.

 

“I swallowed your come,” Seokmin complains, even as she makes her way to the bathroom.

 

“Be thankful it’s _my_ come,” Minghao jokes as he joins her at the sink, the two of them brushing their teeth in comfortable silence.

 

Domestic bliss isn’t what Seokmin was told it would be.

 

All things considered, it’s better actually.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *a voice* intimacy is the strap you fit together! i imagined seokmin's album as a blended mix of daniel caesar and beyonce love songs btw. this is the [dress](https://www.eliesaab.com/en/haute-couture/fall-winter-2017-2018/30) i imagined seokmin in for the grammys and [minghao's look](https://66.media.tumblr.com/24b833e0dc0b4feb0ed6faf70e4a3845/tumblr_inline_p8ro5p8o0B1vztk9e_1280.jpg) was inspired by his blue suit for the maps kr photoshoot. i am just a cat looking for pats~ please leave comments if you enjoyed reading this fic i cannot stress how much it motivates me to keep writing T____T. i also have a [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/lilting) and I recently made a [public twt](https://twitter.com/junseokhao) if you’d like to say hi there instead.


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